Not just a girl
by keriilurve
Summary: She's been stuck on the land for years now; a place where she doesn't belong. Yet when hope arrives at the island, all is about to change. But Chelsea isn't so eager, especially cos it's in the form of the man who stole her from the sea in the first place
1. Prologue and Chapter 1

A/N: I've noticed a couple of people writing ongoing stories of Denny and Chelsea with Chelsea being or turning into a mermaid. I've always liked mythical creatures but I didn't want to repeat the mermaid idea. And so, I decided to use some folklore from my local area. Enjoy x

_"When angels fell, some fell on the land, some on the sea. The former are the faeries and the latter were often said to be the seals."_ - Anonymous Orcadian

**Prologue**

Her toes touched the water as the waves paddled up the beach, coming into contact with her skin before swimming back again. The sun was dying now, the moon taking it's place and setting light across the vast ocean. It was as if the ripples were knitted together with strands of silver thread, sparking in the light, like a quilt of blue.

Her hand held the soft, grey skin, feeling its silky texture. How she'd missed it, and now it was hers once again. Her blue eyes gazed out towards the ocean, her heart beating, excited to return home, and into the dancing sea.

She slipped her bare foot ever so slightly into the water, feeling its coolness and freshness. Finally, what she had been waiting for. And it was here!

Sliding off her earthly clothes – an uncomfortable, yellow fitted t-shirt that stuck to her humanly skin, and tight shorts that dug into her thighs – she breathed in the salty air, ready to slide into the soft, grey skin in her hand. She was ready to go home.

"No!" A male voice pleaded behind her and caught her breath. "Don't go!"

And she whipped her head round, looking for the owner of that voice. He stood behind her, watching with wide eyes. Waiting for her answer.

She didn't give it.

**Chapter 1**

The land felt unwelcoming under Chelsea's bare feet, as if it was made from pieces of burnt coal all sown together to make hard rock bedding. The blackness of soot would soon be tattooed on the soles of her feet as the stones dug into her skin. The humans expected her to sleep inside the house they'd given her, and curl up in those warm, suffocating blankets. No doubt, it was more comfortable then the outside but Chelsea _missed_ the outside world. That was the reason she slept outside. She missed the air, the breeze. The sea.

Chelsea. She'd chosen that name because it reminded her of her home. True, whenever someone called her by that name, her eyes would well up with these trickles of water from her eyes – apparently they were called tears. A result of a human emotion – but, in the end, it would make her smile. Just that little bit.

"Chelsea!"

There it was again, the call of the memories, tugging at her eyes again.

Chelsea turned around from ploughing her field and smiled brightly, a cover up, at the old man hobbling up the road to her house. Taro, that was his name. He and his family had been the ones to tell her she had been shipwrecked. At least, that's what they believed. It wasn't like she could tell them any different.

Resting her hand on the handle of her hoe, she nodded at the man puffing as if he'd run a marathon, his old, wrinkly fingers stabbing into the wood of his rattling walking stick.

"Well, don't just stand there!" he barked at her, his eyes hard as nails. "Help me!"

Chelsea shook her shoulders in a silent laugh before sprinting towards the old man, helping him to regain his balance and his breath. At first, she hadn't been used to her legs. They felt strange and unsettling, as if they were uprooted trees blowing in the wind. But she'd learned to use them as the humans did and eventually felt like a pro. They didn't make her feel like she belonged, though. Nothing ever did.

"Chelsea," Taro eventually grinned before patting her back. "We have a new resident in the islands!"

Her eyes perked up as she listened to his words. A new resident. Well, that would be exciting. Of course, this new person would hear of the story of the young farmer who was shipwrecked and they would become interested in her, poking and prodding for more information on that made up story.

They wouldn't get much of a conversation out of her, though. Just a few nods and smiles. That's all Chelsea could give to the humans, even if they insisted on prying into her life. But she was kind enough and let them talk to her. Another person wouldn't hurt.

"He's a fisherman," Taro sounded excited as he waved his hand behind him as if indicating for another person to join them.

A fisherman? Well, that was something new. Those were the kind of humans that her kind was most interested in. After all, they were seen more than any other human. However, Chelsea felt a sense a fear crawl up her throat at the idea of this new resident coming to the island. Fishermen were a hostile kind and didn't exactly get along well with Chelsea's past.

Still, she was curious as Taro hobbled back down the path a little, dragging along some company.

"Here he is!" He cried, grinning as Chelsea turned around to see the new resident the old man had brought. He had dark skin and floppy, curly brown hair that was tied under a purple bandana. His body fitted into a black tank top and faded, blue jeans, a purple jumper tied around his waist. He had a smile on his lips, welcoming and happy, although it seemed to disappear when he caught sight of her. And those eyes; so brown, as if they were dancing in dark memories.

There was something so familiar about him. So haunting, so rattling. She'd become stiff, not able to move as if she'd been turned into a statue. Her fingers shook, curling into two fists. And her breath had caught in her throat, sticking to the top of her mouth, her heartbeat bursting from her ribs. Staring at that face, she couldn't even blink.

Because, after all, it was the face of the man who had ruined her life.


	2. Chapter 2

He felt like he'd been staring at her for hours now before her cheeks brightened up with pink blush and she narrowed her eyes before shooting round 180 degrees and tensing her back as she marched off up to her field. She really had changed since that fragile little girl he'd found on the beach. Now she had a farm. A farm! There was something that made him grin at that.

Her hands had taken to gripping onto a huge whale of a hoe before dragging it up off the ground and slamming it into the soil of her field. It was almost like she was imagining someone's face in that spot of soil and soon she had dug a spearing hole. Slumping her shoulders, she obviously wasn't pleased with how it had turned out. A hole was not what she had been aiming for.

"Hey," Denny called up, wanting to get her attention again. It had been so long since he'd seen her face and she'd only given him slow-motion seconds to examine it again. He could barely remember how she'd looked that night, abandoned and fragile. It had been so dark.

She shot her eyes – behind billows of long, brunette hair – at him, staring at him dangerously. Her lips twisted before he could get another word in and she stiffened her neck to look away from him again.

Denny hadn't noticed then that the old man had slipped away ages ago, leaving the pair on their own, probably to 'get used to each other'. Not much use that did – she was having none of it. Especially since they had already met.

"No need to ignore me." So he was going for the new guy approach. Maybe if she thought he was someone else then she wouldn't hate him so much. According to this new theory, he had never met her and he was just being friendly and introducing himself to his neighbours. She would fall for that, right?

"Hey," he said again, catching up with her and clasping onto her elbow with his hand, pulling her attention to him. Her skin hadn't changed. It was the same cold when he'd first felt it, but still was as pale and soft, like the sun had never reached it in her life. He supposed that if he hadn't become involved with her that time ago, then maybe it would actually be the case.

She was reacting sharply to him, her eyes turning to him quickly, a sudden moment where no one moved – as if time was floating by so slowly and he could mesmerise in her familiar features – and then she ripped her arm away too soon, leaving him feeling a little empty. Denny knew that if she could talk, then she'd surely tell him to get lost.

Okay, so if she really wasn't into having his company, he'd have to go back to being the innocent, new guy. "Sorry," Denny sighed, trying to look surprised. He peered at her through brown eyes, watching to see her reaction. "I just came to introduce myself. I'm Den." He cut off the last two letters of his first name just in case his full name rang too many similarities. If she found out his full name from the other villagers then, well, he'd say it was a nickname. That was plausible enough.

The girl squinted her eyes, looking at him suspiciously before doing the polite thing and holding out her hand to shake. But it was more like a quick, stick-hand-out-and-get-it-back-as-soon-as-possible action rather than a welcoming one.

Shrugging his shoulders and turning his lips into a pleasing grin-like smile, Denny took her hand in his and gave it a good firm shake. As soon as he'd let it go, she snatched her hand back, huddling it into her chest and turning around again, making sure he finally got a good view of her back. She obviously wanted this conversation to be over.

"And your name is?" he tried to act curious, waiting for a name that wouldn't come. He knew she wouldn't answer; she couldn't answer. Her vocal chords were different to humans – he'd worked that out that time ago, with a little of her help, when she was actually on friendly terms with him. When he was a new person and she didn't judge him.

The girl let her shoulders slump, and he watched as she tried her best to ignore him. Still, Denny continued his act, "You're not going to tell me?"

Her hair swept from side to side as her head shook, her face still facing away from him. She seemed restless and, sooner then he expected, she had suddenly shuffled off towards the town, leaving her hoe in the dirt and him staring into an empty space.

It was really pointless asking her, anyway. Denny knew that she wouldn't have a name. At least not a name from the land. He'd heard the old man mention her being called "Chelsea". Maybe that had been a nickname he'd given her after she hadn't let on, or maybe that had been something she'd named herself after all these years. Nevertheless, she didn't have a name any human would ever speak of and not a name that could never drop from her lips.

After all, she was from the sea.

And selkies – well, they didn't need names.


End file.
